A Multitude Of Casualties
by your new girlfriend
Summary: Bobby is the tough older brother but there's something more there than he lets on. A deep care for the people he loves: his family. He doesn't have a girl but he's not really single either. To protect her he's got to let his other side show. Version 2.
1. where it went & why

-1**A MULTITUDE OF CASUALTIES**

_**back and better than ever**_

Written by: x BEAUTIFUL TRAGEDY x

_aka jess_

I stared this story over a year ago after I saw Four Brothers for the first time and I admit that I slacked in letting it go. Someone added it to their list of stories the other day which reminded me that it was even here. And in rereading the story I have decided to pick it back up, however, I am revamping the chapters. I write, if I do say so, a lot better now and thus I am going to revamp all of tonight and even add a new chapter. But as I have nine minutes until I leave I'm afraid all you get is the title page and the first chapter redone. Yes, this is a Bobby/OFC piece of fiction and though it was an original when I started it, I do hope it hasn't been done to death already. It takes place during and after the movie. To those who have read and reviewed it before this revamp I thank you and hope that you read it now. For new people that might I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. The story is far from finished but I have a great many chapters to add that are done. That said I have no further interruptions. So please, on to the story my friends.


	2. who will survive, what will be left

-1In the beginning of December, when winter is full swing, Detroit is a living breathing pool of ice. Even during the day the temperature is well below freezing, and snow falls in sheets as if this part of Michigan were high in the Rocky Mountains. Even now, as she sat in her car watching the practical white out conditions swirl around her, she could imagine the pain that breathing would cause her. The cold air would seep right through the crocheted scar she had bought, and nip at her lungs. Finding she could stall no longer, the blonde stepped from her car and locked the door before she slammed it shut. She stopped her progress for but a moment to look at her surroundings, she could have sworn footsteps had echoed behind her, but then this was Detroit and nighttime was business time for most people. She damned herself for being so foolish when she'd left to work that morning and pulled the pea coat more securely around her slim body. More layers would have been preferential, but she had come home during the summer, and winter in Detroit was a vague memory, at least it had been. And her job required business attire, she was only an intern and still trying to impress. Thus she wore fashionable business attire, sometimes consisting of business attire with blazers, or simple black dresses like the one she wore now. The patent leather pumps on her feet were her own choice, and quite honestly not the best, for she slipped when she walked and if she had needed a quick exit, she wouldn't have been able to make it. But this was her ode to the fashion gods, who she was sure would be unforgiving had she chosen to go the tennis shoe route like a sane person. Of course, she was also sure that Jack Frost was having a merry old time right now, laughing at the poor girl he had caught in his trap.

Caroline Elizabeth Panettiere blew into her hands in an attempt to warm them, but quickly realized her attempts were in vain, for the bitter air was getting right through the sleek leather covering her fingers. The only way to get herself warm, she realized, was to hurry up the steps, and into her apartment building. But as she looked half a block up, Caroline sighed, she was not at all close to accomplishing that goal and her progress was slow, as she carefully picked her steps. She silently cursed herself as she went, she shouldn't have stayed after work to help with the clean up from the retirement party of the secretary to the editor, Caroline knew that at five o'clock on a Friday parking would be next to non-existent, she also knew it would be pitch black and that, if anything, was the second thing she feared. The first being a man, well, boy when he had left, but she had seen him since then at the funeral, and he was nothing if not a man now. Caroline blew the silky hair from her face and hurried against the storm, and she pushed those thoughts from her mind. The blonde looked over her shoulder one last time before she laughed at herself, of course nobody was following her, and she suppressed the urge to run still. Telling herself she was being silly, but that anxious feeling persisted in her stomach until she forced her mind elsewhere, she was being paranoid, it was just her imagination. Those were the excuses she used. This did nothing but speed up her progress, the power walk she had built up was going to cause her to break an ankle but Caroline didn't care, it was only when she reached the steps that she made herself breath.

"Stop being so silly," Caroline told herself as she fumbled in her shoulder bag for the keys that would allow her access to the building. Once inside the door she knew that she would be safe, for her neighborhood might not be State Street, but it was far from being posh or luxuriously safe either. The owner of the building had bolted the door securely, she knew that, nobody could get in unless they buzzed a friend or had a key.

Annoyed and a bit flustered with herself for being one of the girls she made fun of in the movies, Caroline let herself into the apartment building. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She pretended to herself that she was shaking from the cold, she wasn't scared and she was safe now, but she knew better than that in her head. She took one last breath, deeper this time, and let the warm air freeze the lungs that felt frozen, closing her eyes to add to the over all effectiveness of the calming gesture. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and pushed the button the elevator to her right. Now she was safe, now she could just worry about getting home.

_See that wasn't so bad,_ She thought as she looked at the floor numbers lighting up over the top of the closed elevator doors. Of course, she thought, the elevator would be on the top floor. Caroline took one last glance out the door at the snow covered street, and gave a genuine little laugh. She had grown up in a neighborhood in a single family apartment building, just five minutes down the same road. The thought that she should be afraid, when she was in such a familiar place, only added to the humor, and she shook her head as she turned away. Caroline had nearly set foot inside the newly opened doors of the elevator when she heard a knocking, there was a man standing there tapping the door with his foot, his hands were holding a giant box of odd things, the only of which she could see was an ugly lamp. Against the thoughts screaming at her to just ignore him and go upstairs, Caroline reached for the button that would allow her to speak to him through the wall.

"Who are you looking for?" Caroline questioned all business this time. Perhaps, she was thinking, her feelings had been correct all along. Perhaps this man was following her. The only fishy thing being that he was carrying a box with a lamp. That screamed against her theory, he was probably moving into the newly rented apartment, he may even have been helping somebody else move in.

"I just moved in," Caroline thought that it was odd his own voice had echoed her thoughts. The look must have tipped him off to something, for he opened his mouth wide again. "Look if you want I could show you my rent agreement. I just got it today."

"No that's not necessary," If he had offered to show proof she figured that he wasn't actually a stranger. Who would lie about having proof? Caroline opened the door and held it as he walked in, biting her lip as a gust of air from the door blasted in as well.

"Thanks," The guy said as he walked into the elevator and held the door. Caroline shook her head though that uneasy feeling never leaving her completely. In fact, it seemed to magnify when she was in the same area as the man. She decided to let him ride alone, the stairs would do her good anyway, she sat at a desk every day after all.

"That's okay. I'll take the stairs," Caroline turned her back on his 'suit yourself' stare and moved to the first step as she watched the doors close on the elevator. Feeling as though she was safer now she took her time going up. Besides, if she was attacked now there were plenty of neighbor's apartments in the area, all she had to do was make it to a hallway. Caroline reprimanded herself as she thought it, he seemed like a nice enough person and besides he was her new neighbor.

She reached the door that would open onto the fourth floor and stopped where she stood, halfway up the stairs. There was someone up top waiting by the door, they were wearing an eerily familiar red windbreaker and dark denim. The outfit was unmistakable and she wondered if he had seen her yet. Caroline was not one to tempt fate and figured she was better safe than sorry. She wondered now why she hadn't mentioned something about having a boyfriend, maybe thrown in prison or key words like "big" and "angry" to seal the deal. Of course, it would have been lies ex-almost boyfriends didn't count for anything, but it would have been better. Besides the floor for rent had been on the second, he was standing on the fourth, elevators didn't make mistakes. Caroline turned to leave and she felt a jerk that nearly knocked her off her feet in her haste. Caroline looked around bewildered and noticed that he had grabbed her wrist, he was faster than she had thought, and she was stuck. 

"Owe," Caroline muttered as his grip tightened and she was sure her arm was breaking. She felt as if her arm was going to be crushed into a fine dust and she struggled against him. Fight or flight was taking over, though she realized, it might have been too late.

"I need you to give a message to a mutual….." He slowly drew out the last word as though he were thinking and gave her, what she assumed to be a smile, yet it looked more like a sneer. "acquaintance."

She raked her brain in fear for who could be this mutual person but she came up empty handed. Caroline hadn't lived in Detroit for more than four years now. She didn't know anybody. And, rather than fight him as she should at that moment, Caroline as frozen. It was her greatest downfall and shortcoming, she panicked in sticky situations, frozen until the last second. It was a problem that had always plagued her, and even while in her mind she could see herself screaming, voice piercing the quiet of the night, Caroline could not make herself utter a squeak. It was only when he pulled her closer to him that Caroline snapped from her trance, she wasn't a stupid girl, she knew what was going to happen and she would be damned if she just let it. Reason flew out the window and Caroline bit his hand as hard as she could. She could taste the repugnant salty flavor of his skin mix with the metallic flavor of blood, but suppressing a gag she didn't let go until he did. She jerked her arm and turned toward the stairs taking them two at a time in her effort to get away. She didn't care now if she broke her ankle, or slipped and hit her head, she just cared that she keep moving like a bat out of hell. That she get away.

Caroline tried the door on the third landing but it was locked, and in her haste to get away she had dropped her key. All she had now as a large purse, practically useless and containing only a cell phone. But like she had thought earlier, this was Detroit, the police would be elsewhere. At least forty-five minutes away if she was lucky but probably much more. Tears stung at her eyes and she moved yelling for help and hoping someone could hear her. She had barely connected one foot with the landing when she felt her assailants body impact hers, and they tumbled over the second flight. There was no door here, and no path for escape unless she could get up first. But she was hurt and she could tell. Caroline tried hard to pull herself up to her feet with the rail, fighting the pain and hoping she could get away. Whatever message he wanted to send, whatever words he wanted passed on, she could tell from the malicious look in his eye that it wouldn't be good.

"Oh God," Caroline said to herself seeing the man pull himself up. "Help me!" She screamed pulling herself along the ground by her hands on the rail. "Somebody help me," It was more a sob to herself than an actual cry for help this time. She knew that nobody could hear her, and she knew her chances of escape were slim.

The man placed his hand over her mouth and pulled her back on the landing, away from the stairs that she might tumble them down, and toward the dark corner of the landing. Caroline raked at his face with her nails leaving pink scratch marks on his left cheek and tried to wiggle away, but it got her nowhere. He merely brought his hand back and slapped her across the face. He muttered about her being a bitch and whispered threats in her ear, something about if they didn't need to send the message he would kill her where she lay. Caroline could feel the swelling already but it was not that which caused her to cry.

She could feel his hands roaming her body, feeling everywhere and leaving her with a feeling of complete humiliation, dirty and violated. She felt as though she were outside of her body, watching herself from somewhere high up above as if she were watching a movie. And she kept waiting for herself to wake up, convinced that this was a nightmare and if she just pleaded or begged enough he would stop. As tears fell from her eyes he tugged her to her feet, his part of the task finished. She was too dazed and confused to do anything, this couldn't be her life, this wasn't happening to her, this was a relatively safe neighborhood. This was her neighborhood, where she had lived most of her life, she had to be dreaming, any moment she would wake up. But she didn't.

"If you call the cops, if you call for help, if you talk to anybody I'll be back." He told her brandishing a knife she didn't know he had. He only planned on one person finding out and by then he would be gone. He knew that he need not threaten but he figured he was better safe than sorry. His brother felt he should skip town until the mess was cleaned up, that he ought not be seen. "Only next time I'll use this knife instead."

The unstated message was clear and Caroline stubbornly tried not to cry as she nodded her head in understanding. But she need not for he was gone not long after that. It was only then that she looked down at herself, still fully clothed yet rumpled and violated. She let herself crash to the floor in complete and utter pain. Not just physically but mentally as well. It was not easy going through what she just had, and she couldn't imagine how she would ever feel safe again, she had been violated in what she considered to be her home. What if he came back anyway? These men weren't living by rules and she could remember a multitude of television shows she had watched concerning the topic.

Caroline was unsure how long she sat on the landing before she pulled herself up on the hand rail and leaned against it heavily. She barely grabbed her purse and left the scattered contents as she pulled herself up again, and again until she reached her floor. She stumbled into her apartment and fell on the floor in a crumpled heap. Her hair was a matted mess of tears, tangles, and blood that had come from some unknown wound. Caroline didn't investigate the damage but reached for the phone and instinctively dialed 9-1 before she hung up remembering his threat.

She sat unsure of what to do and chocked back a sob of frustration realizing she really had nowhere to turn. Who could she call? For the person that was leaking into her mind's eye, the one person she knew she could trust above all others had lost too much already. And she wasn't sure she could face him in such a state. But she couldn't call anybody else, she knew that. It was call the one person who she knew would stand by her or test whether or not the guy was good for his threat. She hadn't even made up her mind before she realized the phone was ringing.

Caroline willed herself not to cry as she heard the phone ring and was fearful that he wouldn't pick up. What if it was one of the others? Would she be strong enough to ask without her voice cracking? Caroline hoped desperately it wouldn't come to that, for she knew that she was not. Her eyes were covered in a film of tears she tried to blink back by the time she heard the seventh ring. She was afraid they weren't home and she would have to face this all alone.

"Hello." She heard the deep, rumbling voice that was so familiar yet strange at the same time. She didn't have to ask she knew it was him, and yet she couldn't answer. He said the word not once or even twice but four times before she finally willed herself to speak afraid that he would hang up.

"Bobby," She managed to get it out in a choked sort of gasp that came through the tears and sob stuck in her throat. Hearing his voice had seemed to open the flood gates that held them back, and she knew from the silence that he knew who she was. And she knew that he knew something was wrong. She knew him that well, she knew he had several types of being silent and she knew which this was. And her body shook as the tears freely fell.


	3. tired eyes, tired minds, tired souls

-1Bobby hung up the phone and looked at in disbelief, he hadn't got a phone call like that since his mother, and that phone call hadn't been quite the same then either. One word, a single name, had reached deeply inside and stirred him to action like nothing else had. But he couldn't remember the last time she had called him, let alone in that state. The last time they had spoken had been four years ago, probably longer, and it hadn't been that sort of sadness. She had sounded broken, hurt in unfathomable ways, and he hadn't asked or needed details. The way she had sounded had been enough, and Bobby was already devising a plan to leave unnoticed. He didn't need his brother's to come with him, he didn't want them too, she didn't know them like she did him despite having been around them for years.

Standing from his mother's bed where he had been laying and thinking, a routine he went through almost daily since he had arrived three weeks prior, Bobby headed for the stairs walking both quickly and at a normal speed. There was no reason to draw attention to himself, and no reason to make them want to come either. This part of his life he dealt with by himself, or at least as by himself as he could. He had always been very adamant about that, even with his mother, but he was never sure as to why. He just knew that it was a part that he was keeping for himself, one of the only aspects of life that he could and didn't involve the rest of his family.

The coats belonging to all the Mercer boys were kept in the same little closet just offset from the living room and this, Bobby knew, was going to be the real obstacle. Though the lack of door made things easier it also slowed him up, and Bobby considered walking out the door and just going. But that would be suicide and he knew that, he might have been a lot of things, but stupid was never one of them. He knew that despite the fact that he was wearing a thermal shirt, the bitter cold would seep through the stitching and freeze him in less than a minute. He needed his jacket and the sweatshirt he had been wearing everywhere since arriving. And when he had thrown his outdoor clothing on, Bobby stuffed a stocking hat over his head, making for the door and figuring he hadn't been caught.

"Where ya going, Bobby?" It was just like his brothers to speak up when he thought that he had escaped their notice. It was one of few things he envied about Jack, his utter ability to become unnoticed. And, not shocking to Bobby, it was Jack who had spoken up from the couch. Though he hadn't been around while the youngest was growing up, Bobby still considered himself to be very close to his youngest brother, but he still couldn't tell him the truth. That, and the eager look written all over his face, said that he thought there was going to be action. Ever since the incident with the kids and gasoline, he had talked about nothing else. As if he was trying to prove his worth in the eyes of his elder brothers.

"Out," Bobby replied simply, adjusting the hat on his head to best keep the cold air out, and knowing that it was an answer anyone would have anticipated. He was Bobby Mercer and he didn't explain his actions. But he let out a sigh at the unappeased look on his brothers face. Getting out of the Mercer house had never been easy. If it wasn't one of his brother's, it was his mother questioning where he was going though she always seemed to know. Even if he lied to her. "I'm going to the store, ya little fairy. Go help Angel in the kitchen, he could use it." Though Bobby knew that his brother hated the nickname it had just stuck one day. It was his little term of endearment for his baby brother, and the look on Jack's face when he said it caused him to give a light laugh and shake his head, until he left the room. If Bobby wasn't mistaken he'd looked a bit put out that he wasn't invited, but the eldest Mercer wasn't so concerned, there were just some things in life better done alone. Some parts of his life that he felt he didn't have to share with anyone else. It was selfish, but he wanted them for himself, he needed them for himself.

Outside of the house, he was less careful and the door clicked into place behind him he set out at a sort of jog toward the parked car. The driveway was a sheet of ice covered in snow, and Bobby slipped a little as he came to it. He barely bothered to unsettle the snow that was pelting down on his windshield, and settling in a smooth heap that would test and terrorize his windshield wipers. Bobby pulled his hands out of his pockets just long enough to clear a small hole to see out of, that was all he would need doubting that he would run into other cars at this time of night anyway, not until the streets were plowed once more. Barely giving his car five seconds in which to warm up, Bobby pulled from the drive way leaving nothing behind but the echo of screaming tires of pavement behind.

His mind raced as he navigated back streets and even the well traveled, trying to avoid traffic and figure out what the reason for her call might be. On some level he had an idea, but he kept imagining that maybe it was a break in, just maybe she had only locked herself out of the apartment complex and spun into a tailspin. Yet he couldn't get over the fact that when one thing went wrong in Detroit, it seemed like everything seemed to go wrong. That had been a driving force in his leaving all those years ago. Going just a bit North of Detroit but staying in Michigan. Even so, he couldn't stay away, this place was like a black hole, sucking him in every now and again. Regretfully, he thought of last year when he had declined his Mother's Christmas invitation, he wished now that he had gone. Had he known that it would be her last, he would have been there weeks in advance, but he hadn't and he wasn't.

Giving his head a slight shake he parked his car illegally in the delivery lane of the complex, reserved for trucks bringing in shipment, but he knew none would come tonight. Possibly not tomorrow if the storm didn't let up. Detroit was used to snow, but the weatherman predicted a grand scale storm, one unlike others the city had seen in years. He barely remembered to lock his car in his haste to get to the building, and he paid no mind to the ice beneath the snow as he jogged the whole way up the steps. He kept imagining what could have happened, especially in this neighborhood. It was safe by Detroit standards, maybe not exactly a five star sort of safe, but he hadn't know drive bys and murders to be regular. That was what had him perplexed and unnerved, what could have been so bad?

Out of courtesy Bobby pressed the button that would alert the neighbor to her apartment, he didn't bother to buzz Caroline, and he didn't need to. If Bobby had wanted in the door wouldn't have stopped him. He waited hands in pockets, antsy to get moving for thirty seconds, pressing buttons at random before somebody answered his call. Then he wondered how to get them to let him in, Bobby had always been the muscle, finesse and ways with words were beyond his capability no matter what he might tell his brother's.

"Hey I was supposed to let my friend's dogs out but I left the key at home," Bobby said making a face, and completely unsure of whether or not it would work. His money, if he was a betting man, would have been that it most certainly wouldn't. "Is there any chance you could let me in?"

A response never came, but by some miracle the door was opened. Whether or not she believed his lie, or if she had heard the worry in his voice, Bobby didn't know. He took the stairs two at a time in his rush and found himself on the fourth floor in seconds, the spilled contents from a purse not unnoticed, and hoping that he wasn't thinking the one word that could make him unhinged. Or at least, make him become unhinged more so than his mother's death had. Bobby found himself at her door and knocked once , taking a step back to wait impatiently.

"Caroline," He called through the door knocking again, and not particularly caring about the racket he might be making. "Carrie." His voice was more demanding now, and he wondered if he should jimmy the door to get it opened. He wondered if he even had a card on him with which to do that. Of course, if he wanted in he would have just kicked the door open, Bobby knew he could do that and had before.

He needn't worry though because the door swung open seconds later, slowly and lacking any sort of momentum. Bobby opened his mouth to speak expecting to come face to face with the blonde he knew all too well, but promptly closing it when she didn't appear. He stepped cautiously over the threshold and entered the apartment as quietly as he could. He called for her once again and did a scan of the room to see if anything was broken or over turned, if there was any sign of a struggle or break in, but he saw nothing. That is, he saw nothing until he heard a muffled sort of noise somewhere between a sob and a cough.

He had overlooked the floor in his haste to get in but as his eyes cast their gaze to the ground he saw the girl he was looking floor. A shadow of her former self, and sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor as if all the air had gone out of her. Her hair, so normally well kept, was a matted mess of loose curls caused by a drying liquid he could only assume was blood, bruises and scratches littered over the parts of her body he could see like a patchwork quilt of the worst kind. Her hand was pressed firmly to her mouth as a torrent of silent tears fell down her face, and when she finally looked up he felt his features harden. It was the no nonsense look he wore when he was blocking out emotion, the swollen and discolored half of her face causing the look.

"Carrie…." He said softly, kneeling beside her and using a tone few would think possible of the 'Michigan Mauler.' Bobby knew that he wouldn't have to press for information, she would tell him when she was ready. And if he did press her, Caroline would become reclusive and withdrawn, she would bury herself within and he would never know. Bobby had often described this phenomena in a simple little phrase - to know Caroline was to wait for Caroline, and you couldn't make her do what she didn't want to. He reached out and pushed some of the tangled mess that had once been her hair behind her ear, internally wincing as she flinched when his fingers brushed her skin.

"I let him in," Caroline said staring blankly at the square floor visible between Bobby's shoes. He noticed this, and wondered why she wouldn't meet his eyes. He had tried to catch them several times, but the most he got from her was her hand dropping from her mouth to her lap. "He said he was renting the new apartment, he didn't have a key. I held the door, and……he told me he had papers."

Her voice cracked as she relived the events in her mind, unwilling to share them with him. She opened her mouth several times in an attempt to tell him, but each time she closed it like a fish out of water, she couldn't bring herself to say what had happened. She couldn't describe to him how or for what reason, as if she even knew a reason. Instead, she was only able to mumble different things, broken and incoherent but if he pieced them together Bobby understood most of the story. He wasn't a read between the lines kind of person, but with Caroline he just knew, there were no surprises and he was accustomed with how she thought. At least he was accustomed to how she used to, and he was mostly banking on that. The state she was in, well that spoke for itself.

"Caroline did someone….were you…." Bobby looked at her, the unsaid word settling between them, and he knew that she was thinking the same by the way her blue eyes slowly met his. There was a sort of fear in them that he had never seen before, and she merely nodded her head confirming his worst thought of the night.

"God," She said more tears falling from her eyes as she banged her head back against the wall. "I was so stupid. I over looked everything."

Bobby had never been good in these situations, and a big teddy bear he was not. He much preferred solving things by action than comfort, and so he reached out and pulled her against him. Into a hug of sorts as his mother had done to him, when he felt her arms slide around his torso he knew it was the right move to make. And he held her there while she cried in silence, no words needing to be exchanged, or at least he hoped because he wouldn't have known which they were. To him, it seemed like an eternity passed while they sat there and his legs were starting to protest. They had long ago stiffened up from holding his big frame in a kneeled position, and were starting to tingle now, the tingle that comes before numbness sets in.

"I'm going to move you." Bobby told her, his voice back to normal. He would have asked, but he didn't want to risk having to deal with her stubborn streak. The way he saw things she was in no position to move herself anyway. She needed to be cleaned up, then the damage could be assessed. He easily picked her up and moved through the apartment to the bathroom, where he left her alone momentarily and went in search of a towel. Bobby came back wit h one from the kitchen and set it on the counter before he turned to address the girl behind him. "I'm right outside," He told her before he turned left the bathroom, only stopping to adjust the temperature of the water streaming from the faucet.

A heavy sigh of frustration leaving his body Bobby set himself on the couch and stretched his legs in front of him. He closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the cushion wondering where to go from where he was. He couldn't bring her home, his brother's would ask too many questions, but he couldn't just leave her alone either. Caroline had never been good at piecing her life back together. Besides, he didn't want her sitting there worrying about him when he went out. There were things he had to do, things that he needed to do for his mother, and Caroline was intoxicating, down right persuasive when she wanted to be. He didn't need the thoughts she could place there nagging at his mind.

The shower still going strong, Bobby acted on the one option he knew he had for the night. He dialed the familiar number home and left a brief message with Angel. He could tell Jacky and Jerry, though the latter would be at his own home, if they needed him all knew where to find him, of that he was sure. He wanted to be there if the punk came back, and part of him almost willed the guy too. Above all Bobby wanted to find the guy, but in a place like Detroit he knew that was trying to find a needle in a haystack, he knew that he would have to take them all on and beat every last one until his arm refused to move. That wasn't an option, because even then he knew he may never find the right guy. With another sign Bobby removed his jacket and lay it on the chair, his gun he sat on the coffee table in front of him. Bobby changed position now laying on the couch and wondering what to do as he stared at the ceiling.


	4. running to stand still

Dark eyes snapped open, taking in the unfamiliar room before them bathed in the gray half light of pre-dawn. With a groan he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, defiantly trying to grasp hold of the last bit of sleep on the far edges of his mind, but his attempts were in vain. It seemed, that despite his best efforts, sleep was not going to come to him again today, and he was going to be stuck waking up before half of the city had even gone to bed. Still groggy from his less than restful sleep, Bobby lifted his wrist and looked at the dials on the watch he wore - four thirty in the morning. He who didn't like to wake up before noon, or even the sun, rolled onto his back with his arm across his forehead. He was motionless and thinking, trying to pin point what had woken him up, for the apartment was silent enough to hear a pin drop on the floor.

His ears strained against the silence, listening for any penetration of the quiet in the dark, but hearing none. Bringing his hands to rest behind his head Bobby allowed his mind to wander, wondering how it had gotten this far. His life had been decent, not great or okay by anyone's measure but decent, yet here he was back in Detroit. His mother, a saint by anyone's standards, was gone and he was sleeping on a couch in the apartment of a person he had grown up around. A girl no less, and one he wasn't even sleeping with. But he was wishing that some punk would come through the door, the perpetrator in this situation or his mother's, he didn't care, just someone to release his pent up frustrations on. Though Bobby knew that wasn't a good thing, that was what had gotten him in trouble the first time and part of the reason he had left town. That and his need to be on his own, to survive by himself. But he sort of wished now he had stayed, then his mother wouldn't have gone to the quickie mart, and he wouldn't be here. Or maybe he would, he recalled everything his mother had ever told him when she was alive. Not that he had wanted to listen, or even talk to her about it, but that never stopped Evelyn Mercer. Nothing did.

When he was sure sleep would not come, he dropped his feet to the floor and sat up right. Telling himself she was sleeping anyway, that it would never be known, he walked the short distance to the bedroom across the apartment from the living room. He had done this to his mother, and even his younger brother's before to be sure that even in sleep they were all right. The door was cracked and the room was near black, save for the small beam of the street light that cast a warm glow across the door. But the sight that met his eyes wasn't exactly what he had pictured, and he found what had woken him up.

Halfway across the floor, as if it had rolled from the unconscious hand that hung over the bed, was a bottle of amber liquid he was sure was some kind of hard alcohol. He would have guessed beer, but he knew better and the bottle was shaped quite unlike any he had seen. The contents had soaked a spot in the carpet, and the room smelled of whiskey. Bobby wasn't a guy who cleaned by nature, but the situation was so…..he wasn't even sure what it was, and while he watched her face contort into various looks of deepest displeasure, he grabbed the dirty towel from the floor and busied himself with the carpet. How long he sat there letting the alcohol soak up, or watching her less than peaceful sleep, Bobby wasn't sure. But he wasn't worried about being caught either, he knew that she wouldn't wake up, his best guess was she had passed out from the drinking. It wasn't something he had known her to do, but he couldn't be angry at her either. Trauma had never affected Caroline well, she had always needed help, someone to put the pieces together for her. Evelyn Mercer had been good at that and Bobby wished she were here now, to offer words of wisdom or perhaps tell him what to do. Unfortunately, if she had passed her trade to anyone it was Jack or maybe Jeremiah but definitely not him.

For a moment Bobby just stood there, waiting for what he didn't know, but before long he left. He didn't mind standing in her room, it might have been invasive for anyone else but then, he knew her better than most people. Or maybe it was the other way around, she knew him better than most, and she had hid things from him because of it. He remembered when she had been in high school, he had graduated two years prior, and his mother had gone to get her in the middle of the night. He'd been left with the task of watching his brother's, making sure no harm came to them while she was gone, but nobody hated Evelyn Mercer and he had known none would. At least, they hadn't hated her then. But she had come home with Caroline, and he had been locked out of the kitchen for the night, at least until the two of them had left it. She had stayed with Evelyn that night, no sneaking in his bedroom window - though his mother always seemed to know about that too. It wasn't until later, when he had overheard a conversation from his mother that he realized the cause. And he had been furious at twenty, furious enough to want to go after her father, but he had left before then. That was the last Bobby remembered hearing about him, the man had never come back and Bobby had always hoped his drunk ass never would. That is, unless their paths crossed by some twist of unfortunate fate for the elder. Two years later Bobby had left.

He removed himself from the room and walked to the kitchen where he got himself a glass of water. He dialed the number to his mother's house and waited for an answer. Bobby knew there was a chance nobody would pick up, but there was also a chance he would wake them up, and he didn't care about waking them up. He had done that enough when he had been around, not coming home drunk but coming home noisy. It was only by luck for him that Angel picked up the phone. Of all people he would rather tell Angel, despite his best intentions he just wasn't as close to Jack.

"It's five in the god damn morning," Angel said by way of greeting and Bobby could only assume that he knew who had called. He didn't ask questions though and Bobby somehow knew that he wouldn't.

"Listen Angel, I got some things I gotta take care of this morning," Bobby told him all business even here. "I ain't gonna be back till this afternoon."

"What business you got?" He knew why Angel questioned him, but it was also nothing like that. This didn't concern their mother and he didn't exactly want to share the truth. It was no business of his brother's, if it was the call would have been to a different person.

"None of your damn business, that's what kind of business." Bobby told him in the same manor he had used as teenagers when he didn't want to divulge what he was doing. Of course, if his brother had known Caroline was in town again it might have been a different conversation. He only thanked his luck that he didn't, because he didn't want the same taunting he had given about _La Vida Loca_, as he so kindly called her, because it was nothing like that. Though, he realized, his brothers had known her too, it probably wouldn't come.

"What you mean it ain't my damn business? There's only one kind of business Bobby." Angel was talking about their mother he knew that. But it wasn't that kind of thing, he suppressed the urge to yell at him, only because of the sleeping girl in the other room.

"What do ya mean it ain't my damn business? There's only one kind," Bobby mocked in his over the top, high pitched girl voice. "This ain't that kind Angel. You ain't my keeper, quit asking me damn questions. Yeah I know we got business. You think I forgot? I'm coming home later, we can't deal with that till later anyway."

He hung up the phone after that not waiting for a response. That had always been the pain in the ass thing about having younger brothers. He hated being questioned. Bobby turned around to find himself not alone anymore. How long had he been in the kitchen? For the life of him Bobby couldn't say, but he knew it wasn't long. He wondered how much of the conversation had been overheard. He hoped not a lot, his mother had used to say Caroline was special, he had always told his mother she was a special pain in his ass. Particularly when it came to his doing "stupid" things. He remembered another instance, another unpleasant one, where he had been looking for the punk who had thrown a brick through his back windshield. It had blown into a huge deal, and he remembered very distinctly having his own possessions thrown at his head. But it had always been like that, that was why they had never stuck, it was very black and white, loving or fighting, never in between.

"What was that about?" Caroline asked, and he noted her hoarse voice presumably from the alcohol she was only beginning to realize she had been drinking. "If you need to go…."

The word lingered and he understood what she was saying, but he also understood that she pretended to be stronger than she was. Caroline had always been like that. It was that strong will that drove him nuts, but her utter inability to be controlled that had done other things. Bobby didn't want to think those things now though, he pushed them out to the far reaches of his mind, back where they belonged.

"Nothing," He told her. "Just the safety deposit box."

She nodded her head in an 'oh' sort of way and he knew she didn't really believe him. But he also knew that she wouldn't question him either. She had her own troubles, and she would take care of those first and foremost. Or, she would take care of what she could, Bobby knew she wouldn't take care of it all. She couldn't, even if she liked to pretend so. Then again, he realized that the Caroline in front of him was different. She had grown up somehow without his realizing it. Despite her bruised and battered appearance there was something different about her, different and almost terrifyingly so.


End file.
